


love me, you monster (the pain that takes the longest to fade)

by rainbow_porcupine_ninja



Series: lying about me and you [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arthur Whump, Author directly places her own pent-up angst onto unsuspecting characters yikes, Character Study, Feelings, Implied Smut, I’ve made a mistake but I’ve also made a promise so..., M/M, Or Is It?, The Author Regrets Everything, Unrequited Love, knights of the round table - Freeform, rip Arthur I love you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 10:44:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20759090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbow_porcupine_ninja/pseuds/rainbow_porcupine_ninja
Summary: Arthur fails to keep the memories from flooding back: the rose-red wine that stained their lips, the fire, the bedsheets tangled at the end of the bed.He remembers that accidental whisper of I love you when their breaths started to even out, the nights spent afterwards touching his lips fervently, trying to bring back the souvenir.Merlin’s made cuts on his heart, deep and personal. It’s a kind of evil that leaves you crying for hours, days, because it’s not evil, it’s normal, the kind of love you throw around when you think no one’s listening.





	love me, you monster (the pain that takes the longest to fade)

**Author's Note:**

> Umm hi guys please don’t hate this, I just wanted to try something different. If this gets enough hype and comments and stuff I might write a happy ending, but hey, I don’t like leaving my fics like this, so I’ll probably write one anyway. 
> 
> As to what the h*ck is going on here, you can perceive this ‘unrequited love’ thing any way you choose. I like to leave it up to y’all: What happened that cold night with the wine and stuff??? Why, Merlin? Let me know in the comments what you think.

Arthur has never felt so cold, lying on the harsh floor of the forest undergrowth. He wishes, not for the first time tonight, for his wife— it isn’t fair, he knows. They love each other, but their marriage isn’t built on love. She has Lancelot; he has… well. It doesn’t matter who he has.

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, pretending not to hear the moans just footsteps away, and wraps an arm over one of his ears. He tries valiantly not to remember just months ago, when Merlin wrapped that lithe body of his around his own for warmth. 

Merlin’s a monster, isn’t he? Arthur thinks, rage finally piercing the veil. Arthur wants to magic these wrong feelings away, but he knows that he would find himself clinging onto them with a vain hope, a longing for something that could never be. 

Arthur wishes desperately that he could delete, erase from memory what happened that night, moons ago. 

What could have happened. 

What didn’t. 

He fails to keep the memories from flooding back: the rose-red wine that stained their lips, the fire, the bedsheets tangled at the end of the bed. 

He remembers that accidental whisper of _ I love you _ when their breaths started to even out, the nights spent afterwards touching his lips fervently, trying to bring back the cheap souvenir.

Merlin’s made cuts on Arthur’s heart, deep and personal. It’s a kind of evil that leaves you crying for hours, days, because it’s not evil, it’s normal, the kind of love you throw around when you think no one’s listening. 

That’s why it hurts so much, Arthur reckons; the fact that what Merlin and Gwaine are doing is okay. Arthur’s the king, but he doesn’t  _ own _ anyone.

Now Arthur is an old doll, loved and thrown away. Can’t blame Merlin, really, Arthur thinks, feeling needles cruelly poking inside his chest. He’s a Pendragon, a king, a nobleman. Arthur knows what people say about him behind his back; and they are right. 

He really is a stuck-up brat trying to be an adult and fill his father’s colossal footprints. 

Trying. 

Failing. 

Why would Merlin bother with  _ him _ when he could have the world?

Arthur’s eyes fill with salty, painful tears as Gwaine lets out a breathy sigh. Arthur turns over on his lonely pad.

A hunting trip. Has Gwaine planned this? Or even worse, has  _ Merlin _ ? Or is this something impersonal, a brief comfort from the cold? Maybe all will be revealed tomorrow. 

Arthur knows the afterglow all too well, knows the giddy glances of lovers finally satisfied. The thought of that face on Merlin brings up bile. He can imagine it now. Merlin’s eyes will be shining like crystals and his mouth will twitch every so often as he rotates around the sun that is Gwaine.

How  _ dare _ he? Arthur can hear the greed whispering  _ mine, mine, mine _ in his ears. He can hear Merlin’s breathing intermingled with Gwaine’s now, can almost feel him caressing Gwaine’s back. It’s like Gwaine is mocking Arthur, jeering. 

Arthur can’t breathe, the drowning of his lungs with grief and something dark and twisted that isn’t going to end tonight. He hates himself for these feelings, the reality that there is this sort of throbbing emptiness that he can feel every time he moves.

Gwaine has won, and he knows it, doesn’t he? Gwaine has to know about his feelings for Merlin, he isn’t blind. He’s seen what Merlin has not the eyes to see— the longing gaze, sigh as Merlin leaves the room. 

‘Take him,’ Arthur murmurs into sweet nothingness, as no one is listening for him. No one’s waiting for the lonely overgrown prince, a tragedy resting on a throne too big for a boy, a crown too hollow. 

’I’m nothing to him, anyway.’

Arthur clenches his jaw and sleeps little tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Blatant Self Promo: I cry on tumblr @arthurlervesmerlin and @rainbowdolphinsattack if that floats your boat. 
> 
> If you’re reading this, thanks for actually getting to the end; it was painful for me, too, and honestly if I saw this fanfic while scrolling the AO3 Merthur tag, I would definitely pass it, so much appreciated!!!


End file.
